II.

Yet the free heart will not be captive long; And if she changes often, she is free. But if she changes: One has mastery Who makes the joy the last in every song. And so to-day I blessed the breezes strong That swept the blue; I blessed the breezes free That rolled wet leaves like rivers shiningly; I blessed the purple woods I stood among.

"And yet the spring is better!" Bitterness Came with the words, but did not stay with them. "Accomplishment and promise! field and stem New green fresh growing in a fragrant dress! And we behind with death and memory!" —Nay, prophet-spring! but I will follow thee.